gcldenachilles-archive

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vinifellini‌:

      Once their drinks arrive, Vinícius sips his own and turns back to meet Julien’s eyes; even under the weak club lights, he can see the shade of blue he had grown too familiar with. He nods as the other recalls their first date. Nothing went the way he expected it to go, but it turned out to be even better. He would have been boring and stiff, trying to plan out every minute of the date. In the end, despite their lack of subtlety and the muffled laughs every time he approached Julien, Vinícius was grateful his friends helped him out of his comfort zone. “They really were, but you have to admit we were quite the entertainment that day. I still don’t know which of us they were trying to bully.” 

      He looks down, taken by a sudden interest in staring at the colours of his drink through the glass. Vinícius doesn’t know why his chest feels so tight after Julien speaks again. It’s not like he doesn’t know where they stand, after all. “Yes, it is nice,” he agrees, “these past days have been fun.” Vinícius looks around, watching the people on the dance floor for a moment. “Did you… come here with someone? I should probably have asked that before taking this seat.”

It’s nice that despite everything they can look back on their first date as a positive thing. He knows he’s to blame for where they stand now but maybe this is a step in the right direction, enough though he’s well aware he’s likely killed any chance of a future with the other man. “I think if I were them I’d have done the same thing,” he chuckles lightly, taking a slow sip of his drink. “I think it was a mix of both of us. I mean, they saw the chance and they took it.” He tucks the fond memory away in his chest and hopes that it’s able to bring him joy always, no matter where the two of them end up.

Julien hums in agreement, realizing that he too had been enjoying his time on the island so far. Fun was never something he had too much time for but without ballet, he feels lost but there have been people who have helped him through that. “Oh. I—no, no one,” the words escape from his mouth with a lot more force than he meant for them to but the question takes him by surprise and he wants to let Vinícius know that there’s no one else, there hasn’t been anyone of importance since him. “There’s no one, not since,” he lets the words trail off, taking another sip of his drink.

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adcvis‌:

Beauty was always found by the shoreline, where salt mixed in the air and sand washed against feet as barefoot wanderers found peace in the gentle breeze. There would be a truth to Roman in the warm glow of a rising sun, where they were reminded that they were alive.

“Nothing here will let you be cold for long.”

Perhaps it was this place that knew the truth of them, and reflected it on the glistening waves. From child that used to swim these parts, after playing in the sand with crushed fruits staining the palm of their hands. Cherry pink juice, dripping their fingertips, trailing to a grazed elbow. They’d play make believe, with a child that danced in the waves. Royalty, coming to rescue the drowning sailor. Crashing, colliding with the cool ocean that kissed every part of their body until it blushed pink and washed the stains from their skin.

Now their mouth tastes of copper, and grass stains their once pressed linen. The royalty was never their truth. Rather the stains of earth that clung to him.

They’d continue closer to the other, a softness in their stride, and a hardness to their eyes. The other’s melancholy smile warms their heart, of only just for a moment. Something so fragile to their being.

“What’s got you restless on such a morning?” They stop near the other, allowing their eyes to trace his face. A mask that’s usually untraceable on their own face, this morning hadn’t found it’s place. A raw truth Roman would show the stranger, as they place their boots in the sand and begin unbuttoning their shirt. “I hear nothing puts your worries at ease better than a resting sea.”

Julien hums, an acknowledgment of the words spoken too softly, like the morning dew resting gently on the leaves of a beautiful plant. “I’ve noticed that, yeah,” he says just as softly. It’s crazy because his whole life, Julien has been cold. Missing love and the warmth of kind words that make you want to wake up to another day he’s found the coldness seeping deep into his bones all his life.

But this place makes him feel warm and the people in it are kind, for the most part. Kind just like this stranger standing in front of him. With soft black hair that curls just so into waves, with honest eyes that make Julien ache when he looks into them. There is so much of, well, everything inside the others’ gaze and Julien can understand that.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me,” Julien says upon thinking about the question for a bit. What hasn’t got him restless on such a morning? There are demons he can’t outrun, no matter how hard he tries and those demons don’t care that it’s a beautiful morning. They don’t ask if he’s feeling okay before they jump out and wrap their bloody hands around his throat. No, those demons just appear and start chasing him and sometimes Julien manages to outrun them. Sometimes, though, they get their claws into him and shred him to pieces.

And then surprise colors his features. “Oh,” he gasps, lips parting just slightly as the stranger begins unbuttoning their shirt. “I haven’t been here too long so I wouldn’t know. But I’ll trust your word,” he says and without thinking he pulls his own shirt over his body, the chilly morning air making him shiver just a bit.

“Can’t be that different from an ice bath, can it?”

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roman

“They’re…intriguing to say the least.” ( @adcvis )

[gcldenachilles-archive]

i think you and ada would be so cute...

“I see. I don’t think I know her very well but she’s incredibly beautiful. So, thank you?” ( @lovebcrned )

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vini

“I don’t know what to say to that.” ( @vinifellini )

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florian.

“That’s. No. This ship has long sailed and is resting somewhere at the bottom of the sea.” ( @floagreste )

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leo

“We’re just really good friends.” ( @ofleoo )

[gcldenachilles-archive]

Anonymously send me what characters you ship my muse with!

Bonus points for why!

[gcldenachilles-archive]

𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜 𝒹𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝒾𝓇𝒶𝒾 𝒹𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓅𝒾𝑒𝒸𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓉. for julien, fate has brought back a golden olive wreath.

The previous day had been a huge step into Julien’s recovery. The doctor had cleared him for running, light running, he’d said. But after months of being inactive except for the few stretches he did after his classes, Julien was itching to run especially now that he lived here. A morning jog along the shore would surely be better than anything else in the world. He opens his front door and is shocked to hear the clang of something dropping to the floor as if from the sky. He bends down to look at the object, eyes widening as he takes in the olive wreath bathed in gold. His fingertips hover over the golden leaves, thin and shiny.

He looks around for just a second as if to catch sight of whoever had dropped this on his doorstep but he doesn’t see anyone and finally, he picks the wreath up. It’s weird but for a millisecond, a feeling unlike anything else fills him. It’s victorious but it’s also dread. It’s loss and it’s pain. So, so much pain. So much loss and so many feelings he can’t truly distinguish between. It’s like they belonged to someone else but they are his as well.

“How odd,” Julien murmurs, moving further into his apartment to place the wreath down on the table. He looks at it for only a few seconds longer before he walks out of the apartment again, ready to begin his run. Except when he finally gets to the beach and starts jogging, he’s not thinking about how good it feels to be able to use his foot again and not feel terrible pain. He’s thinking about the golden olive wreath and why upon touching it he had felt a loss like nothing else in the world.

[gcldenachilles-archive]

lxstgxd‌:

tw: body dysmorphia   

Being at the museum wasn’t the only thing making Leo uncomfortable - his shirt - the only semi nice shirt that he owned - definitely hadn’t been this tight the last time he had warn it. As he wandered through the halls of the museum, he wondered idly if he was just getting fat. He put a hand on his stomach and frowned - imagining pudge and paunch where there was none. After 30 minutes of wandering, he got someone attention, “excuse me, do you know where the luncheon is suppose to be? I’ve never actually been here before.”

Julien had stopped by a statue of a warrior, the name on the stone plate at its feet in ancient Greek and almost wiped out. The warrior carried a shield with him but it seems to have failed at its job for the man was wounded and when Julien sees where the wound is he has to laugh. How odd, he wants to say. I’ve hurt my foot too. It’s as he’s staring at this statue that someone grabs his attention and Julien turns to find Leo. “I think it’s right down this hall,” he tells the other, pointing towards the hall he’d come from. “It’s nice to see you somewhere other than physical therapy for a change.” 

[gcldenachilles-archive]

ofthiievery‌:

conspiracy theories and chill: let’s get illuminaughty 

“so,” phineas mused, dragging his spoon through the bowl of soup in front of him, his signature mischievous grin quickly working its way across his face as he locked his eyes on the older male sitting across from him. “what were you thinking we’d do after dinner?” he asked, an eyebrow arched as he allowed the other a few minutes to answer. of course, phineas already had an idea, and if he had his way they’d be doing it, but still, it was polite to let julien thing he had any say. after allowing the other adequate time to offer a suggestion, in reality a minute, he sat his spoon down, as he leaned across the table, “i was doing some reading earlier and i discovered several netflix documentaries on the subject, and i was hoping you’d watch one with me,” he finished, leaning back in his seat as he waited for the other to respond. he was careful to avoid mentioning what the documentaries were about, lest it put the other off. @gcldenachilles​

“Hmm,” Julien hums, looking up from his meal at Phineas. The question makes him pause for a second, trying to think of something that would be both entertaining and not require a lot of energy from Julien considering the day he’d had. Children have so much energy and though he knew that, he didn’t really realize what that meant until he started teaching a class. “So long as it doesn’t require me moving around too much, I think I’m down for anything,” he tells the other, wiping his lips on the napkin by the side of his plate with a smile. “Did you have something specific in mind?” He asks because he has a feeling that he does indeed have something in mind and is just dying to tell him which makes Julien want to laugh a bit. Phineas has these little quirks that are incredibly endearing to Julien and this is one of them. “Netflix documentaries?” He asks, raising an eyebrow curiously. “That sounds like it doesn’t require too much effort. I’m totally in,” he says with an easy smile, finally putting his spoon down as he finishes the last of his meal. “Will you tell me the topic or should it be a surprise?”

[gcldenachilles-archive]

codyoftheargonauts‌:

    —- cody gave a shrug.”fair,” was all she said, as the other handed her the new matcha latte. she gave it a long sip. it still tasted like grass, but cody just resigned herself to putting in a bit of extra sugar. “oh?” she replied, having zoned out just the smallest amount, “uh huh. i do the triathalon and all sprints,” she replied. “are… you?” the woman cocked her head and playfully narrowed her eyes. giving a bright smile at the introduction, cody dipped her head. “cody! it’s great to meet you julien. and you should definitely try it. definitely dirt tasting,” she teased, holding out the cup to him.

He smiles slightly, his hunch confirmed. “I figured after you started talking about muscle cramps and all,” he says with a chuckle. “I do ballet. I also have to watch out for muscle cramps but like I said, some of us are addicted to caffeine.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Not saying I am just, some of us.” Julien can’t help but laugh as she dips her head in greeting and he too does a little mock bow. “Well, the pleasure is all mine.” And then he makes a face at her drink but takes it nonetheless, sipping slowly from it. “Oh, god. You weren’t kidding when you said dirt.”

[gcldenachilles-archive]

empyreanminded‌:

 “They always said it was important, but no one ever really liked it,” Evgenia mused lightly in recollection. She listens to Julien speak, letting the cadence and rhythm of words float over her, taking small sips from her water bottle all the while. Not enough to drain it by any visible measure though- practically nothing if she was actually looking at it. A distraction of sorts. “Perhaps I have. If I did, I don’t quite remember.”

“Was that what your teachers told you?” There is a quiet, curious lilt to her voice that faintly implies disbelief. Because mine never did. All they ever told us was that we had to be perfect because if we weren’t perfect we were nothing. “They must be lovely people if that was what they said.” People she never truly had the fortune of encountering. Her teachers probably shoved all of them past the breaking point, if only to mold the shattered pieces into a better form. Plier. Étendre. Relever. Glisser. Sauter. Élancer. Tourner. Ballet is half the reason she knows French well, but it doesn’t come anywhere close to her grasp of German. For that, Evgenia has someone else to thank and blame. Sharp beats of German sliding back into Russian and back again, an endless cycle practically a quasi-language of their own-

There is a long moment of silence, and Evgenia swallows, mentally debating how much she should say. There is a singular cosmetics pouch in her bag, elastics and hair pins, and tucked in a side pouch is a thin slip of a USB- too much. Too little time- and the expression on Julien’s face. She’s no psychiatrist, but there’s a faint slip that is enough to give her some ideas, none of them good. “It’s alright,” another quiet pause, “-you don’t have to say anything.” 

By this point, she knows she is wading onto dangerously thin ice, but there’s already no clear way back- gone too far out to find her way back, and yet still nowhere close to the true depths of where it all lies. “You used to dance with the Bolshoi, yes?” She frames it like a question, but it is not a question, merely an interrogative of a question she already knows the answer too. The timelines match up fairly well, although one would have been leaving as the other was just arriving. A light, sideways tilt of her head. “Did you know anyone-” There is a clear list of names she can think of, Lermentova, Alianova, Nikiforov, Breznik, Esterházy, St. Clair-Étienne, Rossini, Karimov, Abernathy, Reims-Clarington, Verschueren- half of them were her former classmates and rivals, and yet there is one name that perhaps Julien will know- the one that does nothing but rise within the ballet world and the Bolshoi. Louis Friedrich Von Clary und Aldringen. “-around my age?”

“Yeah but surely everyone was happy to not have pulled a muscle during practice, no?” He says and it should be light but any mention of an injury feels like a knife to his own gut so his laughter feels awkward coming out of his mouth. It’s stilted and then it feels like rocks in his mouth. “Yeah, a lot of stuff is easily forgettable.” Some others, not as much, he thinks but doesn’t have the guts to say. He doesn’t feel entirely too comfortable discussing all of this with someone who is his student but he sees a lot of himself in Evgenia. He hopes her wounds are not as deep as his own.

“God, no,” he laughs and this too is an uncomfortable laugh. His teachers had told them perfection was everything. The words were beaten and branded into his skin so often that now he’s sure you can find them on every inch of his body. “I don’t think I’ve heard the word fun even uttered in any of my classes or practices. I don’t know a single ballerina who thinks of the craft as fun. Perfection is what we all strive for, no?” And it’s a question he knows the answer to without even having to ask but it still comes out anyway. “But it’s what I have to tell the children I teach. Because—“ he pauses, takes a deep breath and lets years of pain drift away for even a second. “Because it should be fun. I don’t want to be like the teachers I had, no matter how amazing they were in their craft.” I don’t want to be like my mother is what hangs on the tip of his tongue.

It’s a long time before Evgenia speaks and though the silence should be uncomfortable, it’s not. It just feels like they’re reminiscing on the past and though that can be painful, he thinks doing it with someone else who understands can be comforting in its own way. When she speaks again he looks up, an eyebrow-raising curiously. “Yes, for about a year. I trained more than I actually danced with them though. Moscow was—,” he stops, unsure of the word he’s looking for to describe his time there. “Interesting to say the least.”

He’s sure not that the girl is asking for a specific reason and he wonders if he has the answer she’s looking for. “There were a lot of younger kids there if I’m being honest,” he says, trying to recall the most prominent ones. There a lot of them Julien remembers being envious of, something that he wasn’t entirely too proud of. But when you see someone so much younger than you doing something you can’t help but become green with envy at knowing that soon enough those people will surpass you in skills. “A lot of them were really amazing dancers. A lot of Russian names, most of them blend in together. There were a few French boys I remember talking to as well; they’d come to me asking for help once they found out I spoke French,” he hums, smiling at those particular memories. “There was this Austrian guy too. Or maybe he was Hungarian? Von something. He was absolutely amazing.”

[gcldenachilles-archive]

vinifellini‌:

      “YOUR ADULT STUDENT knows what they’re talking about, this is my favourite club. I haven’t been to the others, to be honest, but this place has class.”  Vinícius turns to the bartender, choosing a Tequila Sunrise for himself—because life is too short to pretend he doesn’t like the colourful cocktails—and telling Julien to order whatever he wants, throw in some appetisers if he feels like it. It’s all on him.

      That impulsive comment is sweet, but responding to it is a risky move. The last thing he wants is for the other to think he’s trying to get a redo, but he doesn’t want to say the first thing that comes to his mind either. Vinícius likes having Julien around, but the past months taught him that he never wants to be in that position again, to be so desperate for someone’s attention that he can’t even remember his own name. He was raised better than that. “Yes, you could say that,” he finally says, “but we had a whole team of third wheels back then.” Vinícius offers him a soft smile, keeping things light and casual. “Tonight, we are the extra wheels.”

“Class?” Julien chuckles, looking around the place and he decides that class is a good way to describe it. There’s something really interesting about the decor and the atmosphere of the place, unlike other nightclubs and bars that he’s been in. Once the bartender arrives Julien orders a mojito and then he turns to Vini again, a smile painted across his face. “Thank you,” he tells the other, watching him for a few seconds, the curves of his face all too familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

Though he’s tried not to dwell on the past, choosing instead to ignore all feelings and not recall memories, the first night out with Vinícius had been a happy one. Their mutual friends had been entirely too interested in them that night but the two had still managed to get to know each other a bit and had even shared a kiss that night. Julien would say that’s one of his happiest memories. Even now he recalls it with a smile. “Yeah, they were insufferable that night weren’t they?” He chuckles, shaking his head as he remembers their friends' antics. “This is okay too, I think. It’s nice.” And he doesn’t mean anything by that, just that it’s nice to see Vinícius again.

[gcldenachilles-archive]

ofleoo‌:

“i mean it, yeah?” hee said looking at julien dead in the eye knowing that he did have an issue with perfectionism. “i mean, look at me? i make myself look liike an idiot all the time, you just look beautiful all the time.” leo laughed softly as he let his hand rest on top of julien’s not even really thinking about it at this point. it was just something that was so normal for them now. his face naturally flushes red whether he’s blushing or embarrassed it’s hard to tell at this point but it’s probably a mixture of both. “nah, bibs are boring i live life on the wild side these days.” which was true for leo as of right now. he would have never thought that he would even agree to have julien be here with him right now. but he was a friend in need right? he needed a place to stay, he was doing the right thing. his eyes studied julien’s visage admiring him for a brief moment before returning back to eating his spaghetti. 

“you’d really watch bambi again?” he asked softly as he bit the top of his lip to keep himself from smiling. “maybe we can choose a different disney movie. bambi is sad sometimes and i’m not in the mood for a sad film at the moment.” he said laughing a bit before letting his hand finally release julien’s and he adjusted himself in his seat as he used that same hand to take a sip of the wine. “though i’m also fine with you choosing to pick something as well.” he said simply with a shrug as if it was no big deal even though more recently leo has been the one choosing the movies. “you need to have a little bit of choice too, right? gotta spice things up a little bit.” he said shimmy-ing his stomach a little as an attempt to get the other to laugh or maybe he was just making himself look like an idiot at this point which was possibly true. 

If a blush rises on Julien’s cheeks at the compliment, well, that’s just something he’d never admit to. And if anyone were to ask he’d deny it but at least to himself he can admit the fact that the compliment makes his heart beat just a little faster. His entire life he’d been trained to be perfect and sure, beauty came with that, but to be told that from someone he’s close to just feels different. “You don’t make yourself look like an idiot all the time, don’t say that. You’re just endearing, is all,” he tells Leo with a gentle smile painted across his lips. There was a softness to Leo that Julien had come to admire. he was kind and sweet albeit a bit awkward. But of course, that awkwardness was what made him Leo.

“Of course I’d watch Bambi again,” Julien says, taking a few more bites of his food, savoring the taste of it. He had never been a Disney movie fanatic but watching them with someone else was really fun, even he had to admit. “Yeah, I didn’t know Disney movies could even be sad. Is that allowed? Though he supposed sadness is a part of life and even children should learn to deal with it. When Leo speaks again, shimmying in his seat Julien can’t help the laughter that escapes him. He finds it a lot easier to laugh around the other too. “You’re silly. I don’t mind you choosing the movie. I wouldn’t even know what to pick anyway so this makes my life easier.”

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ofagatas‌:

Giggling at his little jest, Ágata takes a moment to admire how spirited Julien seems to be. While typically calm and collected, she was used to being surrounded by the most chaotic of figures. Thus, just being around Julien was like a much-needed breath of fresh air. “Oh nonsense. The honor is all mine. Its not everyday someone prepares a meal for me out of the kindness of their heart.” She gushed, beaming his way while he finished getting everything settled.

“So, you’ve never had anyone spoil you with a meal before?” She questioned with pure curiosity. “If that’s the case, then you just must come over to my estate next time so that I can make it happen.” Ágata adds, waving a hand dismissively when he said it was always a special occasion to have her around. While the girl did think a bit too highly of herself from time to time, she was modest by nature around others. Consequently, any praise was dodged in a meek manner. “Mediterranean cuisine can be quite a chore to master. I have been meaning to take a class for a little extra help, but I haven’t had much free time until now. Perhaps that’s something we could do together…if you like?”

He smiles, surprise coloring his face at her words. It was really incredible that she was so young yet was always taking care of everyone else. “Well, that’s just not fair. I think we should make this a normal occurrence then.” It was always nice to be around her and though he’d never had a sibling he thought of Ágata as a little sister and that’s why he felt the need to take care of her.

“No, no, I have,” he says, thinking back to the times a significant other had cooked or he’d gone over a friends’ house for a nice dinner. “But it’s not something that happens too often. It’s mostly my fault too because I tend to be the one to want to cook for others since I’m so used to it.” He grins widely at her offer, something he’d have to absolutely take her up on it. He’d never been over Ágata’s mostly because their schedules didn’t line up in that way but at the word estate, he raises an eyebrow. Sometimes he forgets she’s part of the Spanish elite. “Oh, I’d love to take a cooking class. It’d be nice for once to actually learn from a teacher as opposed to Youtube videos and recipes on the internet.”

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heavenburdened‌:

 * ╰        A TEAR RUNS LIKE A RIVER down the length of eden’s cheek ; falling past his guard, flowing flowing flowing —— and eden turns his head away for a moment to let his eyes fall shut —— taking refuge in the quietness of oblivion, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before this one droplet of sorrow turns into a sea. here in the darkness, eden sees many things —— he sees a boy, a beautiful boy he once loved and still has love for despite his passing long ago. he sees a golden chain like a noose around the swell of that boy’s neck —— and on that chain he sees a golden cross, and on that golden cross he sees a golden man. jesus’ feet were pointed like a tiny ballet danseur. and it’s just the smallest moment that passes as eden stands there with his eyes closed, but still he sees more —— he sees imperfect pirouettes performed by still growing bodies, he sees feet that ache in pursuit of spending more time with a boy who made the whole world fall away. he sees blood red roses, and a kiss —— eden sees a kiss ; a kiss that should have been the beginning of something so beautiful, yet a kiss that marked the end of everything he knew. a kiss like a farewell. 

          he wants to let out a cry of loss, or perhaps scream ; but the pain welling in eden’s heart is too dolorous, too deep. it’s a pain so wretched that all eden can do is feel it —— feel it all, and pray the pain will somehow pass and leave him to rest. so eden’s eyes open, and with gentle fingertips he brushes away the fallen tear from his cheek. once he’s certain that no more tears will come, eden turns back to meet the stranger’s gaze once again, and with his hues washed clean with tears it is in this moment that eden realises that he looks like him. this stranger looks so much like eden’s first love, and now all eden wants to do is sink to his knees as beg for forgiveness —— it was all my fault ; what happened in that garden. but eden catches himself before he starts speaking with a ghost, and replies the man in front of him instead. “ i came because i thought i was strong enough, healed enough, to come and remember and pay my respects to a life and a person that are both so faraway from me now. ” eden tells the man ; the man that looks him him. “ but i was wrong. ” and eden doesn’t cry here ; but the words are a lament —— “ i think returning to ballet, in any form, was always going to be hard —— sometimes no matter how much you’ve healed there are wounds so deep that they can always be prised open again. ”  

          then he falls silent, catching his lower lip between his teeth and biting with almost enough pressure to draw blood, because eden abhors when he does this. when he feels so much and he feels it so strongly that he overflows with it —— saying too much, divulging too much —— making his sorrow become the sorrow of others. really, that was the reason why eden had shut himself away for so long ; afraid of making connections with people and then tainting their light with the great shadow of his melancholy. from the way that the stranger gazes upon him, eden feels that he has already had his own fair share of woes and so he takes a small step back ; as if to protect him.  “ you should go back inside —— i’m okay, i’m alright, ” eden tells him, but for reasons unknown, more than anything eden hopes that he will stay. “ you needn’t miss the chance to behold such a beautiful performance on account of me. ” 

Julien thinks at this moment the other man is reliving a memory, remembering something that brings him a pain so deep that it’s threatening to drown him. And he can understand that, of course he can, because he himself feels that ways sometimes. Remembering is always the hardest part because some memories can’t be just remembered. They have to be relived and that in itself can crush you, the weight of it unbearable. Some memories get better with time and some just get more unbearable. Julien thinks the man is experiencing the latter. He wants so badly to take some of that pain away for reasons he can’t understand. He doesn’t know this person, has never met them before but something about him makes Julien wants to help. He thinks the other is kind and hurting. There is so much pain in him, almost as much as there is in Julien and because of that he feels connected to the other somehow.

I came because I thought I was strong enough, the man says and Julien understands that better than anyone. Truthfully, if he wasn’t so caught up in someone else’s feelings right now he too would be crumbling under the weight of his own past. If his mind wasn’t preoccupied he thinks he’d be sitting in that auditorium still, tears streaming down his face as he remembers all the times he suffered for the craft only for it to be taken away from him by some injury and his own stupidity. Then it all makes sense to Julien. He thinks this man has loved someone so dearly before, so strongly and all of it was tied to intensely to ballet that now it hurts to even sit through at a performance. I thought I was strong enough, the man says but what he doesn’t know is that you truly never get over something like that, no matter how badly you want to. “That isn’t something you ever get over. Not really,” Julien says quietly, moving closer to the other, one hand reaching out to touch his shoulder as a way of comforting him. “Maybe someday it won’t hurt as much but when they say time heals everything they don’t account for this.”

Then Julien shakes his head, waving a hand in the air as if to tell the other that there was no need for that. In truth, he’d needed an out as well because he could feel his chest tightening at the sight of the performers, wondering how he would do up there on that stage. “No, no,” he says a little quietly. “If I’m being honest I wasn’t doing too well in there either,” he tells the other, running a hand through his hair nervously. He hasn’t really talked to anyone about his injury or what it’s been like to be away from the only thing he’s known his entire life. It fucking hurts. It feels like he’s hollowed, a shell of the person he used to be and he thought maybe he was strong enough to watch a performance. He thought maybe it wouldn’t feel like someone stabbing a knife in his gut and twisting it harshly but it does. “It’s hard watching a performance when you can’t be up there yourself. Especially if it’s the thing you’ve been training for your whole life.”